


it's a word, not a sentence

by jamesiee



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternative Meeting, Kid Fic, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mentions of Cancer, Parent Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Photographer Jack, Sick Character, Terminal Illnesses, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-03 14:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesiee/pseuds/jamesiee
Summary: Jack’s had a long day.“Any inquiries about bookings or appointments are usually better done over the phone, during the day,” he says, giving the standard response to walk-in clients and letting his voice fall flat. He doesn’t mention that the current waiting list for a shoot is at least six months.The man winces. “Yeah, I um, I know that. I saw your website.” The man bites at his lip while he looks at the wall, and Jack is about to remind him of the studio’s hours, but then the kid peaks out from behind their dad’s legs and Jack’s heart goes into his throat.He’s going to be staying a little bit longer.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> this was entirely 100% inspired by [ this comic](https://www.boredpanda.com/cancer-story-comics-not-always-right/) that was going around a while ago. the original source link was a tumblr post, but i think it's been deleted now
> 
> unbeta'd because i am impatient. omgcp universe belongs to ngozi.
> 
> CW: Bitty's kid is really sick. I don't go into specifics, and my medical knowledge is very limited so apologies for what I got wrong.

Jack’s had a long day. 

Most of his morning was spent arguing with a client who didn’t like the way her daughter’s birth pictures turned out because Jack didn’t photoshop out the redness in the newborn’s cheeks to make her look as doll-like as possible. Then he had what had to be the longest photoshoot he’s ever had because the dad thought that one photography class at Micheal’s made him an expert on how to light Jack’s set and would make changes as he saw fit. Bouncing between trying to keep the eight-year-old’s attention so he wouldn’t strip naked—again—and fixing what the dad did without outright calling the man an idiot was exhausting and because of it, Jack worked through his lunch to edit the pictures he needed for the magazine shoot he’d done weeks before. He wasn’t happy with the results so in between his afternoon sessions, he’d open up his laptop and poke at it right up until he needed to send them off to the editor.

Squinting at his computer screen, adjusting colour balances and saturations made Jack more tired than being behind the camera so he’s feeling the long day now that he’s sat down at the front desk, without anyone else to worry about in the studio. He should be answering emails and double checking he has all the backgrounds and costumes he’ll need for his big pregnancy shoot tomorrow morning but Jack can’t bring himself to do more than stare at the clock as it counts down the fifteen minutes until he locks the door and gets to go home. 

It’s a testament to how tired Jack is because he watches the clock for five whole minutes before he remembers that he’s his own boss and he technically can close his own photography studio any time he wants and no one will yell at him.

He’s just pushed himself out of his chair when the bell above the door rings, signalling someone coming in. Jack bites back a curse, but he can feel the glare on his face when he looks at the blond man and his son who just came in, bundled in their winter jackets and stomping off snow that must’ve come down sometime in the last hour. 

The man approaches the front desk. “Hello, um, I know it’s almost closing time, but I have a really big favour to ask,” he says. 

Jack stares for a beat, vaguely wondering what someone with a southern accent is doing this far north, in the middle of a Boston winter no less. The man colours under Jack’s stare, wrinkling his nose and in any other setting, Jack might’ve found him more than a little attractive considering his messy blond hair, freckles, and big, dark brown eyes check off everything on Jack’s list. As it is, it’s been a long day and Jack wants to go home. 

“Any inquiries about bookings or appointments are usually better done over the phone, during the day,” Jack says, giving the standard response to walk-in clients and letting his voice fall flat. He doesn’t mention that the current waiting list for a shoot is at least six months. 

The man winces. “Yeah, I um, I know that. I saw your website.” He pauses and looks around the studio, taking in the wall that showcases the portraits Jack’s most proud of, the series of geese postcards that Jack worked on with Lardo, and the vintage camera equipment that he has on display because it makes him happy to look at. 

The man bites at his lip while he looks at the wall, and Jack is about to remind him of the studio’s hours, but then the kid peaks out from behind their dad’s legs and Jack’s heart goes into his throat. 

He’s going to be staying a little bit longer. 

The kid is small. His puffy jacket hangs off a thin frame, hands lost in the too-long sleeves, though he keeps pushing one up so he can hold onto his dad’s hand. He wears a bright red toque, pulled all the way down his forehead. No hair peaks out from underneath, but Jack doesn’t think it’s because they’ve tucked it up into the knit fabric. The boy and man have the same big brown eyes, matching all the way down the deep bruises underneath, though the boy’s might be a shade darker. There’s a tube taped to the boy’s cheek, feeding into his nose, the other end tucked around up into his hat before it disappears into his collar. It’s clear that the boy is very sick. 

The man clears his throat, and Jack guiltily looks up from where he knows he’s been caught staring. 

“Gavin saw your postcards in the hospital gift shop,” the man says. “He loves geese.” Gavin looks up and smiles big at his name, nodding as much as he can without dislodging the tube. He unzips his jacket and Jack’s heart clenches to see that he was wearing a big hoodie underneath the jacket and still looks so tiny. Gavin shoves his hands into the hoodie pocket and pulls out a folded piece of cardstock. He unfolds it carefully before standing on his tiptoes to reach the counter and push it towards Jack. 

“The babies are the best,” Gavin says. His voice is rougher than any child’s voice should be, sounding like it hurts him to talk, but he’s smiling the whole time Jack looks at one of his postcards. It was one of the last shots he got that day, after having crouched in goose shit for hours to get pictures of the adults interacting, he managed get a shot of a gosling using the toe of his dirty yellow runner as a pillow. 

“Yeah,” Jack says softly, looking at where he has it posted on the wall across from him. Gavin follows his gaze, grin widening when he sees it, tugging at his dad’s jacket to point it out.  

“The woman who works there says you had other things up in the hospital so on one of our good days, we went on a search and found some of your other pictures.” The man swings back around once he looks where Gavin wants.

“I like the unicorn,” Gavin says, again standing on his toes to see over the desk. He stretches to take his postcard back, almost losing his balance, but the man steadies him with a hand on his back easily.

Jack can’t think of a picture session he’s done with a unicorn, or even with the unicorn background he has, but most of what he’s given to hospitals are the landscape photography that he was really focused on while working towards opening his own studio. 

“There’s a picture of a horse near the cancer ward and the shadow makes it look like a unicorn,” the man explains, smiling down at Gavin. He puts a hand on Gavin’s head and gently tugs at the toque, huffing a laugh when Gavin bats him away. He steps a little closer to Jack’s, voice lowering as he continues. “Look, I did go on your website and check for appointments and I know that y’all are booked solid for the next six months or so but-” His voice breaks. Jack’s stomach drops; six months might be too long for Gavin to wait for an appointment.

Jack looks around his desk, searching for the box of tissues he knows he keeps now that everyone has the sniffles in the cold weather. He finds them and passes the box over to the man, who takes a couple to press roughly to his eyes. Gavin reaches up and pulls on the man’s elbow until he drops his hand so Gavin can reach it. Gavin takes it and the man lets out a water breath.

Jack clears his throat, once, twice, to get past the lump he’s suddenly developed. He probably needs a tissue of his own but he blinks rapidly instead. 

“Well, luckily, there’s a special promotion going on for people with these postcards,” Jack says, talking through the hoarseness in his voice that always comes when he’s feeling emotional. He leans forward over the desk to pass the postcard back to Gavin. Gavin takes it, looking up at his dad with big eyes. “I’ve been waiting all day to take pictures of someone who has one.” 

“You have?” Gavin asks. He bites at very chapped lips, brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure Jack out. The directness of his stare is startling, his eyes the brightest point amongst the purples and blues of deep bruises and sharp cheekbones that don’t belong on a child’s face. 

“I have.” Jack nods. “Now why don’t you take your dad back there,” Jack points over his shoulder, towards the studio he uses for kids’ portraits. “and I’ll meet you there to pick out what you want to wear in a second.” 

There’s an entire wardrobe of different sized costumes, ranging from princesses to hockey players to doctors and everything in between that goes along with his extensive collection of backgrounds. It’s not as organized as it usually is when he has a session with a kid, but Jack’s more than happy to let Gavin go and chose what he wants. He might not get many more chances. 

Jack locks the door while Gavin takes the man’s arm and leads him to the doorway. He’s chatting a mile a minute to his dad, but the dull roaring in Jack’s ears means he doesn’t catch any of it as he flips the lock so they’re not interrupted. He rests his forehead on the cool glass of the door, breathing in and out and in and out, while he takes a minute to compose himself. He’s not sure his bursting into tears would be productive for anyone tonight. 

“Thanks for doing this.”

Jack jumps, knocking his head against the glass at the voice. He turns, feeling guilty for some reason, to see just the man leaning out of the studio doorway, eyes big with a concern Jack doesn’t feel like he deserves. He steps into the hallway. 

“I’ll be right there, sorry,” Jack says, rubbing his forehead. The skin is warm to the touch, even after being pressed against the cool glass and Jack hopes he didn’t lose track of time. 

“You’re apologizing for me scaring you on top of making you stay late?” The man raises a blond eyebrow. 

“Er, yeah?” Jack says. He drops his hand from his forehead, and hopes he doesn’t look as stupid as he feels. The man came in here with his obviously very sick child and Jack is the one who can’t keep it together. 

The man shakes his head, looking more bemused than annoyed. “Well, thank you. Seriously. This is gonna be the highlight of Gavin’s year.” He’s still smiling when he finishes, but it looks a little pinched around the edges.

“Uh,” Jack clears his throat. “Of course.” He stares at the man and the man stares back.

“I’m Eric, by the way,” the man says, suddenly. “If you wanna know who’s extended your work day.” Eric chuckles slightly, a little self-deprecating. 

“Jack,” Jack replies, taking the hand Eric offers. His palm is dry but warm and a little rough. He squeezes Jack’s hands for a beat before letting go.

“Yeah,” Eric says and Jack flushes, realizing Eric must’ve known his name right from the start if he’d been able to google his website.

“Right.” Jack nods. “Er, should we?” He gestures back over Eric’s shoulder, following when Eric steps back inside the studio.

In the studio, Gavin’s found the building blocks on the low table in the corner. He’s still wearing his jacket, but he’s pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. Despite all the time Jack spends around children, he’s not great with telling kids’ ages, though it’s pretty obvious even to him that Gavin’s wrists and arms are too small for his age. He struggles for a moment to move most of a completed rocket ship that Jack’s earlier appointment left behind. 

“Now I know Mr. Jack didn’t say come back here to play with the blocks.” 

Eric’s voice makes Gavin jump and look guilty at his dad. 

“Sorry,” he says, eyes wide. He puts the rocket down, though not before tweaking the nose slightly so it sits straighter. Jack bites back a smile.

“C’mere,” he says, gesturing over at one of the overflowing wardrobes along the back wall. The doors aren’t completely closed, different colours of tulle make it over stuffed and the bane of Jack’s existence to keep clean, and Gavin lights up when he catches sight of it fully open. “Let’s pick some things out to start with.”

With practiced hands, Eric helps Gavin tries on every single one of Jack’s costumes, guiding limbs through arm and leg holes, careful not only of the tube on the side of Gavin’s face, but also of the toque on Gavin’s head. Gavin grins at his reflection each time, twirling and running his hands over any silky fabric, before standing in front of Jack’s camera and posing like a superhero or a ballerina or whatever strikes his fancy. Jack makes sure to capture each pose. It’s the easiest photoshoot of a kid that Jack has ever done; Gavin must be the politest, most well behaved kid he’s ever met. When he says as much to Eric between costume changes, Eric snorts. 

“He’s just trying to impress you so you’ll let him take some photos,” Eric says lowly. Jack twists from where he was watching Gavin pick out a princess dress by touching all the tulle to look at Eric. 

“Geese are his favourite animal,” Eric repeats, shrugging. “And because photography let you get close to them, he thinks he should be a photographer to get close to them. I can’t wait till he learns about zoo-keeping.” Eric grins wryly.

It’s a challenge for Jack to tear his gaze away from Eric’s smile, somehow still the brightest thing in the room despite everything Jack knows it’s been through, but he turns away to adjust the tripod.

“What’re you doing Mr. Jack?” Gavin’s come over dressed in kid’s sized Providence Falcons jersey that still falls to his knees. He’s strapped elbow pads on over top, and is dragging the smallest hockey shorts behind him. They look giant beside Gavin.

“Making this the right size,” Jack answers, pointing at the tripod. Gavin’s brow furrows and he looks between Jack and his dad. Jack’s not sure what Eric’s doing behind him, but Gavin still looks suspicious as he takes another step towards Jack.

“Why?” 

Jack crouches down to check that the tripod is level and won’t fall on Gavin. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He drops his voice into a whisper. Gavin’s still looks confused but he comes to stand right beside Jack so he can hear, still dragging the hockey pants.

“Your dad just told me that he wants his picture taken,” Jack says, whispering loud enough for Eric to hear as well. “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to do a good enough job… Do you wanna try?” 

Gavin’s eyes are as big and as wide as Jack’s seen them all evening, and for a moment he just looks like an excited kid, bouncing on his toes, tubes and tiredness completely forgotten. 

“Can I?”

Jack nods and turns to make sure the the tripod is properly locked in place. Satisfied nothing is going to fall, Jack beckons Gavin over and when he’s in place behind the camera, Jack points out where to look and what buttons to click. 

Gavin listens and nods seriously at Jack’s easy explanation, beaming at the viewfinder screen after he takes a couple of practice shots of the empty background, a dark sparkly blue that Gavin had picked out to go with his firefighter costume. 

“Look dad!” Gavin says, pulling back from the camera and almost knocking Jack in the nose in his excitement. Jack sits back on his heels to dodge anymore stray limbs, knee walking even further back when Eric comes to crouch beside Gavin too. Gavin explains everything that Jack just told him, and even though Jack is sure that Eric was listening the first time around, he nods and makes understanding sounds every time Gavin pauses for breath.

“We’ll frame some of these for Great Moomaw, what d’you say Gav?” Eric asks. Gavin blinks and thinks about the question. 

“Can we print some for my room too?” he asks. “I want to see you for always.” 

Jack’s lost count of the amount of times his heart has clenched painfully this evening, hating the fact that now he’s picturing Gavin’s small body in a hospital bed, but Eric hardly blinks before he answers.

“‘Course sweetpea.” 

Gavin nods, satisfied.

“Let’s take some with someone in them too though, eh Gavin?”  Jack says, as he finally stands up from his crouching position, brushing dust off his knees. 

“Do you want to pick out a costume for me?” Eric asks. He gently pushes Gavin back up onto his feet from where he’d been leaning back against Eric and stands, making small steps towards the row of costumes. There’s probably not much there that’ll fit him, but there’s something to be said for dads who’ll stretch a child’s costume across their shoulders to see their kid happy. 

“No, I wanna remember you like this,” Gavin says, matter-of-fact like. Eric freezes, holding a pair of rainbow wings. Jack bites his tongue to keep from audibly reacting, and finally Eric’s smile breaks.

“Well, alright then,” he says softly, turning his face away from Gavin and into the closet. “Lemme just hang these back up.” He clears his throat, once, twice, and Jack has no camera to fiddle with when Gavin’s still happily taking pictures of the background, and a clear view of the first tear that falls onto Eric’s cheek. He feels absolutely helpless as Eric closes his eyes and rubs a hand roughly across his face.

Even with his eyes closed, Eric looks tired, like he’s been carrying the weight of the world for far too long on his shoulders. And he probably has, Jack realizes. He doesn’t have kids sure, but he’s still haunted by the broken expressions on his parents’ faces when he woke up in the hospital, like their whole world was on the verge of collapsing before he opened his eyes. And just from watching Eric and Gavin interact, it’s not much of a stretch to assume that Gavin is Eric’s whole world. 

Jack’s heart breaks for them both.

“Daddy?” 

Eric’s eyes snap open and if he catches Jack staring at him, he doesn’t say anything, twisting towards Gavin, who’s looking over a little impatiently.

“I’m coming Gav, sorry!” Eric hangs up the wings and sets himself up in front of the camera. “How d’you want me?” He poses dramatically, jutting a hip out and pouting his lips. Gavin giggles.

“No, dad,” he says. “Just smile!” 

Eric straightens out of the pose. “Alright sugar,” he says, and he smiles wide, any and all traces of his earlier tiredness gone. Gavin nods and presses the shutter down. He doesn’t pause to look at the viewfinder before he takes another one and then another one. Eric’s smile doesn’t waver, in fact growing softer and more natural the longer he watches his son. Jack finds himself mirroring the expression.

Jack has no idea how many pictures Gavin takes, but when Gavin starts to flag a little—the pauses to yawn between squeezing one eye shut and pressing the other to the view finder dragging on a little longer each time—Jack pushes up his sleeve to check his watch. His eyebrows go up when he sees it’s already almost 7:30, two and a half hours after Eric and Gavin first came into his studio. Eric must be paying more attention to Jack than he thought, because he’s got his phone out and looks just as surprised as Jack feels at the time.

“You just about done Gav?” Eric asks, sticking his phone back in his pocket. He takes a step towards Gavin. 

“No,” Gavin says around another yawn. He snaps a picture of Eric mid-snort but lets himself be corralled over to the costumes. 

“We’ve taken up enough of Mr. Jack’s time, hey sweetpea?” Eric says. Jack wants to say that he doesn’t mind, that he’d be happy having them around for as long as they’re willing to stay, but now that Eric’s said something about the time, Jack can see how hard Gavin was fighting his sleepiness, rubbing his eyes now. He yawns so widely that Jack sees his tonsils. Eric guides Gavin’s arms out of the Falconers jersey he’s been wearing, movements still practiced and careful not to dislodge the tube under Gavin’s nose as he pulls it over his head. Gavin droops forward, resting his head on Eric’s shoulder once he’s free. 

“Long day?” Eric asks, expertly balancing keeping Gavin upright and stretching to get Gavin’s sweater and jacket. He mouths “thank you,” when Jack hands them over. Jack feels warm. 

“You were there, daddy,” Gavin replies, managing to sound admonishing despite speaking mostly into Eric’s shirt.

“Oh that’s right.” Eric gets both their jackets on and stands, scooping Gavin up with one arm and holding the Falconers jersey in the other. He looks between the jersey and the hanger still on the ground, brow creased, and makes to bend over again.

“I’ve got it,” Jack says quickly before Eric can move. Gavin’s little fingers grip onto the back of Eric’s collar and he’s pressed his face to Eric’s throat as best he can, blinking slowly. Jack knows what an exhausted child looks like, and that’s without factoring in how sick Gavin might be so Jack takes the jersey and throws it over his shoulder, kicking the hanger out of Eric’s path.

“Are you sure?” Eric looks around reproachfully at the tutus that are still sticking out of the closet, the props that make the prop box hard to close, and the backgrounds still leaning against the wall, ready for whatever Gavin’s next chose was going to be. Eric winces when he sees the elbow pads around the tripod that Gavin stripped off and dropped on the floor at one point.

Jack nods and tries not to blush under Eric’s scrutiny. Gavin yawns loudly in his ear. 

“Alright,” Eric sighs, running his free hand over Gavin’s back. It makes a swishing sound against the puffy fabric.“Gav, what do you say to Mr. Jack?” 

Gavin picks up his head. “Thank you for taking my picture, Mr. Jack,” he says, managing to hold off yawning until the end. He blinks tiredly at Jack. 

“And?” Eric prompts after a beat. 

Gavin turns suddenly to look at his dad, almost hitting Eric in the face in the process. He squints at Eric until Eric whispers, “taking pictures,” in his ear.

“Oh! Thank you for letting me take pictures too. It was—” he yawns. “—was really cool.” 

Jack smiles. “Anytime, Gavin,” he says, holding out a fist. Gavin’s whole face brightens as Eric’s falls, but Jack doesn’t think Gavin sees the expression when he touches his little fist to Jack’s. 

Jack follows Eric out of the studio, closing the door behind him and deciding to deal with the little mess tomorrow. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have an immediate need for a clean kid’s studio, but he’ll double check later. He goes behind the desk to grab a pen and paper. 

“So, if you wanna leave your email address here, and I’ll send you a link when I’ve done the edits and have uploaded them,” Jack explains, putting the paper on the counter. Eric shifts Gavin over to his left hip so he can write with his right hand. He pauses before picking up the pen, making sure Gavin’s toque is on. Gavin makes a noise in his throat, but his eyes stay closed. 

“Um, do you have to edit anything?” Eric asks quietly. He sounds tired.

Jack clears his throat. “No. I can leave everything untouched.” 

“Thank you.” Eric writes down his email address and then shifts Gavin again. It takes Jack a second to realise he’s reaching for his wallet.

“What are you doing?” Jack asks. 

“Um, paying,” Eric says. He gives a Jack a funny look and tries to hand over his card.

“No,” Jack says. “Absolutely not.” 

“What? No, you stayed late, you did so much,” Eric protests. “I know how much your shots are listed for, please charge me for that.” 

“I’m not taking your money,” Jack says again, stepping back from the counter. It’s not like he’s lost any business letting Gavin take the pictures, so he can’t bring himself to put a price on the time he just spent with Gavin and Eric.

“This is a terrible way to run a business,” Eric huffs. “What’ll your boss say?” 

Jack shrugs. “He’s a pushover.”

“Jack,” Eric says. He bites at his bottom lip.

“Eric, don’t worry about it. Honestly.” 

Eric frowns at Jack but puts his card back in his wallet. “What’s your favourite dessert?”

That’s not what Jack excepts. “What?” 

“When I have a minute, I’ll make you something.” 

“Uh.” Jack looks at Eric, who’s looking back, expectant and completely serious. 

“Do you like pie?” Eric asks. 

“Yes?” Jack answers.

Eric nods, satisfied. “Good. I make really good pie.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack says. “Honestly, it’s fine.” 

“When I have a minute,” Eric repeats. “I will make you the best pie you’ve ever tasted.” He bounces a little, getting a better grip on Gavin. Jack doesn’t think about why or when that minute will come. 

“Okay,” Jack says slowly. “I’ll uh, get those pictures up and send you the link as soon as possible.” 

“Thank you Jack,” Eric says. He looks down at Gavin’s sleeping face. “Seriously. Thank you so much,” he says softly. 

Jack just nods and unlocks the door so they can leave, a lump in his throat as he returns Eric’s wave after he puts Gavin into his carseat. He watches Eric walk around the car, wave one more time before getting in and driving away and Jack hopes with his whole heart that he sees them both again.

He locks the door and turns away from the window, hoping that he does get to see both of them again, and feeling sick at the thought of why he might not. Jack doesn’t blink away the tears this time. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s easier for Jack to go through the pictures when he gets to the studio the next morning. His eyes are still a little bit swollen, and he doesn’t know what to do about the bags under them, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s going to start crying again when he sees how much Eric loves Gavin and Gavin loves Eric as he scrolls through._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still unbeta'd
> 
> :)))))

It’s easier for Jack to go through the pictures when he gets to the studio the next morning. His eyes are still a little bit swollen, and he doesn’t know what to do about the bags under them, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s going to start crying again when he sees how much Eric loves Gavin and Gavin loves Eric as he scrolls through.

Usually when he does shoots, Jack’ll look through all the pictures he took and pick the best ones to upload, depending on what the customer paid for. For Gavin though, Jack is glad he doesn’t have to picture favourites because if he’s being honest, he couldn’t. They’re all his favourite, showing Gavin smiling and happy, eyes crinkled when he’s wearing a costume that he especially likes. He had pulled silly faces in some of them, laughed loudly when Eric laughed and Jack sniffs loudly, realizing how special it is that he was able to capture some of those moments.

He scrolls faster, until he comes to the pictures of Eric that Gavin took and Jack spends exactly a professional amount of time going through those before he just makes sure he clicks to select all of the photos they took last night to upload, including the empty ones of the background. He thinks Gavin will like that.

The link to the website goes into blank email when they’re all done. Jack carefully types the email address into the _TO_ box, and puts _GAVIN’S PICTURES_ in the subject line. He taps his fingers on the keyboard without hitting any keys once he’s in the body part of the email, trying to decide what to write. He’s got a template that he normally uses to send out the links, but nothing about this shoot has been normal.

 _Hey Eric!_ , he starts, but he never uses exclamation points so he quickly backspaces and puts a comma.

 _Here’s the link to Gavin’s photos_ , Jack continues. Duh, he thinks but doesn’t backspace. _They turned out great- I hope he likes them!_ Jack frowns at the screen. Is a smiley face too much? He types one. And then erases it. And then retypes it, chewing on his lip as he stares at the email and wills himself not to start crying at the thought of pictures being what Eric has to remember Gavin.

Jack jumps when there’s a knock on the closed door and he realises that it’s already after 10 and he should’ve unlocked the door like five minutes ago. She waves when she sees she has Jack’s attention, her other hand going to support her back. Jack stands, but before he goes to unlock the door, he types out _Best, Jack_ and hits send. He hurries to unlock the door and welcomes Meghan in so he can officially starting his day.

There’s nothing in Jack’s inbox when he finishes the shoot, and nothing shows up during the day either, despite Jack noticing the has been link being used to download the photos. Jack shouldn’t have expected anything—he’s never been overly invested in getting a reply back from customers before— but he can’t help the twinge of disappointment that pulls in his stomach anyways.

\- - -

Winter melts into Spring and Jack thinks about getting his winter tires taken off, for an entire month and a half before he actually gets it done. It snows the day after anyways and everyone Jack talks to hears about it, until the snow stays away for good and Jack starts booking more outdoor shoots since his equipment won’t freeze. He takes to closing early on days he’s spent driving around to different locations, tired from all the time spent in traffic and working with mother nature to get the shots he wants.  

He’s just locked the door after doing a big prom shoot on a Tuesday afternoon when there’s a knocking on the glass. Jack turns around to see a small face in the window, grinning and waving frantically. It takes Jack a second to place Gavin without a tube under his nose and fluffy blond curls sticking up around his head like a halo. Jack blinks.

“Hi, Mr. Jack, do you remember me?” Gavin shouts and that’s when Jack knows he’s not imaging anything.

He knows his jaw drops and he knows that Gavin keeps talking through the glass, can see his mouth moving, but Jack can’t get past Gavin being here. Jack stares at Gavin, at the lack of bruises under bright eyes and the baby fat in his cheeks that he didn’t have before and the excitement that he can’t contain, until a hand runs through Gavin’s hair and Gavin twists to look up at Eric. He doesn’t have bags under his eyes either, and in facts looks well rested and well. Jack’s mouth goes dry. Eric smiles widely when he makes eye contact with Jack and gently pulls Gavin away from where he’s still pressed against the door. It takes Jack a beat of staring at Eric before he realizes he should unlock and open the door.  

“Hi,” Jack says, once he’s opened it and stepped back to let them in. Gavin’s in the middle of a story that Jack missed the beginning of, but that’s okay, Jack’s happy to listen to sweeping timbre of Gavin’s voice, whatever he’s saying. It’s so different from the rough voice of the sick little boy that Jack remembers Gavin being, and he’s so, so glad for the change.

“Gav, breathe,” Eric says, interrupting Gavin. “Give Mr. Jack a chance to answer.” Gavin sucks in a more dramatic breath, causing both Jack and Eric to look at each other and smile.

“So do you like it, Mr. Jack?” Gavin asks, blinking up at Jack.

Jack blinks back, realizing that he completely lost the train of Gavin’s monologue in between reflecting how much stronger he looks now. “Er, what?” he asks. He looks to Eric who’s grinning down at Gavin. He taps Gavin with the box that Jack’s just noticed Eric has been holding this whole time.

“Both hands Gavin,” Eric warns, carding a hand through Gavin’s curls. Nodding, Gavin takes the box carefully and offers it to Jack.

“This is for you,” Gavin says, shaking it a little when Jack’s slow to take it.

“Wow, thank you,” Jack says. He looks at Eric. “You really didn’t need to.”

Eric shrugs.

“Daddy really wanted to. He said—he said making things are a way good to sa-say thank you,” Gavin says. Eric’s cheeks pink up, but he doesn’t look away from Jack. Jack feels warm as he smiles back.

“Are you gonna open it?” Gavin asks. Jack blinks.

“Should I?” he asks.

Gavin rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Jack, that’s what you supposed to do with presents,” he explains. Jack snorts, but brings the box over to his desk so he open the lid without fear of dropping it.

“Gavin,” Eric warns. He gives Gavin a look before they both turn to watch Jack cut through the piece of tape on the lid. Jack smells the pie before he really takes in how perfect it looks, crust crispy and golden, with just a bit of caramelized apples peeking through the cuts in the center. Jack’s never seen such a good looking pie.

“You made this?” Jack asks Eric.

“I said I’d make you one when I had time. I wasn’t sure what kind you like, so I just made apple because everybody likes apple. I can um, make you another if you don’t like apple,” Eric says. Jack shakes his head.

“No, I like apple,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Apple’s my favourite,” Gavin says. “And so is peach, and cherry, and lime. Daddy makes the best pies, but sometimes I help him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he-he lets me lick the bowl.” Gavin’s hair bounces as he nods and Jack has to smile.

“This is for you too,” Eric says, holding on an envelope. Jack takes it, sliding his finger along the flap.

“I licked that too,” Gavin tells Jack proudly.

“Good job, bud,” Jack says. He pulls out a homemade card, smiling at the picture Gavin drew on the front. He feels his mouth pulls down at the corners though, when he opens it and sees a cheque written out, his name spelled out on the payee line.

“Eric,” Jack says. “I told you—”

“Jack, c’mon. Those pictures were absolutely gorgeous, worth more than you can ever imagine.”

“I said I wasn’t going to take your money, Eric” Jack says softly. He folds the cheque, baulking slightly at the directness of Eric’s stare, his eyes the colour of a perfect cup of coffee. Jack rips the cheque anyways, puts the halves on top of each other and then rips that into quarters and then eighths. Eric sighs, shaking his head.

“You’re a stubborn man, Jack.”

Jack shrugs. “You made me a pie.”

“That was no trouble.” Eric looks at Jack, chewing on his lip. “At least let us take you out for dinner too,” he says. Jack opens his mouth but gets interrupted.

“Dinner!” Gavin twists to look at his dad. “Dad, is Mr. Jack gonna come to, to dinner with us?”

“Why don’t you let him answer Gavin,” Eric says gently, poking Gavin’s nose. Gavin laughs and wrinkles his nose, grinning up at Eric. They share a smile before looking at Jack, waiting for his answer.

“I’d love to go to dinner,” he says.

Identical grins break out on Eric and Gavin’s faces.

\- - -

**_Eleven Years Later_ **

“Awww Gav, look at you.”

“Ohmygod.”

“Your little smile was adorable.”

“Stop it dad, please. I’m begging you.”

“It’s still pretty cute.”

Gavin swings his head to shoot a betrayed look at Jack.

“Noooo, not you too papa. I thought you were on my side,” he whines, doing a great impression of himself at five. Jack knows this because he was there, at Gavin’s fifth birthday and every one after, first invited as “Mr. Jack” because Gavin brought it up the first time the three of them shared a meal, and then because as Eric’s boyfriend, Jack got a standing invitation to all family celebrations.

“I am on your side. You were such a cute kid though,” Jack replies.

“You’re just saying that because you took the picture.” Gavin rolls his eyes, gesturing at the photo Eric stopped on as he went through the photo album Gavin gave them for their third wedding anniversary.

It’s one of the first pictures Jack took of Gavin, and though Jack has seen these pictures millions of times, has multiple copies of the pictures on multiple hard drives that have followed him through moving studios and houses, these pictures and the memories attached to them are special to Jack. In the photo, Gavin is smiling widely, despite the gauntness of his face and the tube under his nose, and he’s spread his arms out in some sort of post like he’s a superhero. He looks smaller and sicker than Jack remembers, but that might be because now Jack knows what Gavin healthy looks like. His smile hasn’t changed since that night, all teeth and nose scrunched up, just like how Eric smiles too.

“Honey, Jack could be the world’s worst photographer, and his pictures would still show that you were the cutest kid,” Eric says, continuing to flip through the photo album.

“Thanks bud,” Jack says dryly.

“I’m not saying you’re a bad photographer, I’m just saying. Our kid’s pretty cute,” Eric says, flipping to the next page.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees.

Gavin sticks out his tongue, managing to look pleased at the compliment from Eric, even as it comes with a delayed hair ruffle. 

Jack loves them so much.

**Author's Note:**

> second part will be up in a couple of days
> 
> im on [tumblr](http://pongpalace.tumblr.com/post/) talking with the void


End file.
